Thursday, February 2, 2012

Long nights journey into fray




I have been e-mailing with my sister.  It astound's the both of us how disconnected my parents were from the whole nuclear family thing. They were detached and aloof until shit hit the fan. Then we were confidants and therapists. Emotional pit-stops. We were persona non grata until they were sponsoring terror that was sure to leave scars on us.
Some parents compete to position  themselves in the minds of their children as being the parent that will give  the nicest gifts, or the laxest restrictions.
Ours seemed to be hell bent to out do the other in making us the most parentified.
These are e-mail excerpts used with permission from my sister.  It is her talking about the night my mother was arrested in Denver. And the drive back from Denver to Dallas with just her and my father.
My father was foaming.
Being in front of his kids was no incentive to check himself or what he said.

**************************************************************************


When the FBI showed up that night I was relieved. I thought, finally somebody who is qualified to deal with her
can do it, and I'm off the clock. I don't have to watch what she is doing anymore.   

When the FBI and the detectives showed up and were asking dad if he was at the Dallas house they also
said that Williams was shot there, and asking where mom's gun was. That's when I went, 'oh, i get it'.

For some bizarre reason I was stuck in a car with her and some detectives. Dad must have been with you. I was in the cop car in the passenger seat, and she was in the back seat telling me to not say 
anything and the cop who was driving kept telling her to shut up. What a laugh riot. 

I got to see Bill get arrested, handcuffed, put in another car. We were all taken to the police department.
I got interrogated in one room while they were interrogated in other rooms,
and I had to make a statement. They kept asking me for details about what they did. And
I kept telling them I didn't know anything, I was asleep that night. They were quite mean about it and kept telling
me they knew I was lying and were going to put me in a juvenile home. blah blah blah, lol.
I think dad picked me up at the police department, because he was there seeing what was going on with mom. And when we got to the  ********'s it must have been 11 pm or midnight, just guessing. They seemed sympathetic toward dad I thought, but it's just a blur of a memory of us getting our bags and saying goodbye to them. And dad drove us back to Dallas that night, non stop basically. The longest night ever. Him just ranting and raving at me about what the flying fuck had Barbara been doing, for 8 hours or something. And then we went to *******'s house.

























27 comments:

Lisette said...

"They were detached and aloof until shit hit the fan. Then we were confidants. Therapists. Emotional pit-stops. We were persona non grata until they were sponsoring terror that was sure to leave scars on us."

Damn Q. That says it all.

upsi said...

All for a little bit of money, as our dear Margie laments at the end of Fargo.

It strikes me as a rare miracle that you and your sister weren't divided/conquered - am I interpreting that correctly? If so, that's one good thing: that your sibling-link wasn't also swallowed up in this blackhole of destruction.

q1605 said...

My sister was the only rational person around. And yes, the bond is pretty well intact.
I had not told her of this blog until yesterday when we were hashing through old details. I just thought I might use her words. She said fine by me, but I don't think she knew I was speaking about right here and right now.
So I sent her a link and she is still cool with it.
She may add some comments or I would post anything she wanted me to post.
It's her call.
I love hearing her perspective on things. I was so young a lot of it whooooooshed over my head.

Lisette said...

Wow. Upsi makes a good point about the divided/conquered... that is a rare miracle that you and your sister have a decent relationship.

My MN mother and MN sister divided the whole family... all members link back to my sister (brother, father, mother)... all except me that is. I have no one. She did a good job of conquering/controlling the family and shoving me out. I have a good mind to rejoin it, and claim my place just to piss her off and take away all her control.

q1605 said...

Don't think my mother didn't give it hell. She was so busy rubbing my fathers face in her filth that she left my sister and I to our own devices.
It wasn't until her looks gave out and men wouldn't fight over her anymore that she started in on us.
As good as she is at that her credibility with me was blown.
But trust me. With my sister living out of state she gave it all she had.

Anonymous said...

It seems that whole "Divide and Conquer" hasn't worked with you and sister. She seems to have been more of a mother-AND father (from your previous posts)-than The Barbarian and "Dad."

I "second" Lisette. Profound loss doesn't begin to cover it. Living with the remnants of their "Legacy" which is what both of you are doing and now sharing with unabashed honesty. Your bond was one sustaining the other and no doubt a reflection of the selflessness of your sister.

Your sister tried to protect you as much as her "maturity-beyond-what-should-be" was possible. You BOTH were deprived in a number of common ways. But her love for her "Little Brother" comes through loud and clear.

She's a special lady just as she was a special kid and adolescent. She did her very best to shield you. The reality is she couldn't protect you from all despite her best efforts. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she deals with a different kind of Survivors Guilt.

She was a kid too. And her email speaks to her maturity at the time of "mother's" arrest and the implication of her boyfriend as well-how sad is this? Her treatment by the FBI was crude, traumatizing and without merit. Kids and adolescents are without guile when they have the moral and ethical imperative she clearly demonstrated. Her "compass" was set to True North and she never lost sight of this even as a kid.

Her email speaks to her most fundamental morals and ethics which were formed YEARS before, her love for her brother and her role as the "Adult" in this 'family', her compassion and desire to shield you from more pain.

She is beyond a "sibling." She IS a mother in the very best sense of the word. I have no doubt it "cost her" but she gave freely and unconditionally.

IMO, what a Special kind of Lady she truly is.

q1605 said...

She's pretty cool. We were the only two issued all access passes to the freak show so it was sink or swim.

Anonymous said...

And she'd make sure you had your life preserver on FIRST.

Lisa said...

Awwww, what a great sister.

I'm starting to think my dad liked how crazy my mom was. I remember one night we were all fighting over something and mom and dad were really going at it. My mom was going crazy and not making sense, contradicting herself, threatening to leave, getting in the car over and over and my dad, acting like the world was going to end if she did drive off, stopping her over and over. And he started getting frustrated and he was like, "You're not making any sense!" I said, "Yeah! See? That's what she's like. She's crazy!"

I shouldn't have said that. My dad just gave me this look, this far away bewildered look like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to bash my head in or not. That was really sort of what it seemed like he was thinking as he looked at me.

Then, of course, my mom came at me for that. "Yeah, it's out now isn't it? So your old mom's crazy huh? So that's what you've been wanting to say this whole time huh? Bet you've been saving up for that one huh? Are you happy now, you little twit, now that you've told on me? HUH?" Of course, that 'confession' then melted into "Crazy? You're the one that's crazy! What about you! You're the mean disgusting crazy one!"
Um, okay.

The thing is, no matter how much they fought, no matter how much they hated each other (I could've sworn they hated each other, gee), the next day? Silence. Dead. Like nothing had happened. Just this deadness.

You know what happened the day my mom came back from the hospital after her 'suicide' attempt'? My dad walks in through that door with her at his side, pokes his head into my bedroom and says, "Hey Lisa! Let's all go on a family trip to the casino!" I said No Thanks.

Yeah, he took her to the casino to make her feel better. And she put her sour face on the entire time, but I saw that glimmer in her eye the second he said casino. The glimmer she gets whenever there's a sign that THERE MAY BE GAMBLING. She knew she was going to go. But she didn't act like it. She didn't smile once or show any excitement. She just sort of waved her hand and said, "Oh, I'm so weak and tired but I guess that's the only way to make this rotten mess of a life better," like she just couldn't be bothered, Her Royal Unsatisfiable Bitchy Highness.

The bigger my mom's crazy, the bigger dad's ego got. Every step of crazy was just another medal for the war hero. Her crazy was about look at me, look at me, look what I'm putting up with, I am so AWESOME. It was about him. Never about her. Never about me.

He LIKED it.

The more crazy she got, the more rewarding it was for him to stay with her. The more crazy she got, the BETTER he looked. And since my mom is infinitely crazy, he is infinitely in it. Yep, he was in it to win it.

The next day after the big fight, my dad calls me (UGH ALWAYS FUCKING CALLING ME TO TELL ME ABOUT THE 99CENT TACO HE HAD FOR LUNCH AND THEN GETTING MAD WHEN I DON'T TELL HIM WHAT ALL THE INGREDIENTS IN MY SANDWICH WERE.) and starts lecturing me in his fake concerned "my poor baby" voice that I need to eat something, take care of myself, and be strong. Then he goes right on to complain about how he didn't have any breakfast, nobody's around to feed him, and poor him, he's so hungry and weak and such a martyr.

How about HE be strong, the fag.

q1605 said...

Goddamn Lisa. I so fucking get what you are saying. Mine were just the same, only different.
Somewhere along the way it's how these pussies start defining themselves.
They bend themselves around the twist of the disordered other, rather then man up and demand some sort of reciprocity. It's just easier that way. Live the lie and don't rock the boat.
The more shamelessly they get manipulated, the more masochistically they indulge their betrothed.
What starts as embarrassment, gets so fucking pathetic that we can't stand to watch.
And they drag us into it. They raise so much hell we are forced to become a party to it for fear of even more hell breaking loose.
And having today's embarrassment turn into tomorrows headlines.
Trust me on that last one.
Just trust me.

q1605 said...

The thing is, no matter how much they fought, no matter how much they hated each other (I could've sworn they hated each other, gee), the next day? Silence. Dead. Like nothing had happened. Just this deadness.

Oh man!!!!!!!!!!!!
Preach to the choir!

Lisa said...

Haha, preach to the choir!
Thanks. Your dad inspired me to write about my dad! I'm so glad it resonated with you, the aftermath and all that. That silence was just mind boggling to me, mind BOGGLING, thinking about it today, writing about it..
shit. show.

They just put on a giant rolling neverending SHIT SHOW just for the sake of what? FOR SHIT. And your entertainment. I mean, destruction. Their entertainment, YOUR destruction. What a bunch of...SHIT.

Hey! I really think I'm starting to get the hang of this sociopath show idea!

q1605 said...

Lisa.I wonder if it was why I always ended up in frictional relationships with women. It was all I knew. After my dad offed himself and my mother bolted, it was too f'ing quiet.
I was a kid then but my first real girlfriend was crazy. I spoke with her a while back and she is in therapy about issues with her father and that's her words. Crazy.
My first wife would need a whole new blog devoted solely to her.
The woman I am with now is the only normal person I have been with.
By the way. The first wife's name was Lisa. But I won't hold that against you.

upsi said...

"They bend themselves around the twist of the disordered other, rather then man up and demand some sort of reciprocity. It's just easier that way. Live the lie and don't rock the boat.
The more shamelessly they get manipulated, the more masochistically they indulge their betrothed."

This is a precise description of my dad, too. Easier to live on her insane terms than ask anything for himself, out of self-respect. My dad is a "doting husband" to his wife first and foremost - if that fucked up the kids, oh fucking well I guess. He'll put on a big shame show for it, but that doesn't translate into ACTION, into CHANGE. It translates into killing his guilt so he can continue floating along the status quo. He's ashamed but not enough to do anything about it.

Daddy's a big pussy, what else is new. and you can't say that to him because NM, his rabbid guard dog, will defend her man until the end, because he will defend her until the end. Where that leaves the kids, I do not know. Here, I guess, trying to sort it all out.

My parents are still married, as I believe are Lisa's, so it somehow functions - unlike your parents' marriage, q, which clearly didn't have the same balance of sadism and masochism to sustain itself. Or maybe it had too much sadism in B and too much masochism in your dad, which inevitably destroys the masochistic one, all too willing to martyr himself for her love.

fuckin worth it.

q1605 said...

No amount of love sex or money is worth it.
Maybe if they stood up for themselves up front it wouldn't get so bad on the back end.

Lisette said...

@Lisa "The bigger my mom's crazy, the bigger dad's ego got. Every step of crazy was just another medal for the war hero. Her crazy was about look at me, look at me, look what I'm putting up with, I am so AWESOME. It was about him. Never about her. Never about me.

He LIKED it.

The more crazy she got, the more rewarding it was for him to stay with her. The more crazy she got, the BETTER he looked. And since my mom is infinitely crazy, he is infinitely in it. Yep, he was in it to win it."

Damn! Lisa, you just opened up a whole can of worms for me. Your comment gave me chills. I am stunned by your revelation. Thank you! It's freakin' scary to come to these kinds of realizations.

My MN mother and father never had loud knock-down, drag em out fights. Instead, there was utter silence. Deadness. For almost 2 years... 2 years!!! before their divorce, they didn't speak. But it wasn't a dead calm, it was intense TENSION. So fucking thick you could cut it with a knife. If someone were to walk into our house they could smell the stagnant hate and fury bubbling beneath the surface. They had no passion for each other so there was no screaming and yelling, but I think that's what they BOTH craved for their egos: making the other go crazy, which they both refused to do.

MN Dad eventually traded up and married a full-on psychopath, so he got the exictement/crazy he was looking for to feed his ego. That's what he NEEDED to feel and look good. She used to beat the shit out of him, so yeah, the war hero had actual wounds to display. And the sick fucking bastard kept on going back for more. Until he divorced her, 10 years later... but during those 10 years I wasn't allowed to contact him at home (by letter or phone) because if I did, she would beat the shit out of him. The crazy bitch was threatened by me because I refused to even meet her.

Anyway, I always felt sorry for him for having crazy wives, but cringed at what a coward and whimp he was. Thing is, it was always about HIM and what his fragile ego needed. His choice of women was deliberate (I always suspected he was a bit of a masochist). And does this kind of sick man make a strong, protective father?! Hell NO!

How about HE be strong, the fag. In - fucking - deed!

q1605 said...

I am clueless about what these parents must think of their children.
That we pop out fully formed and are ready to be plugged into their sick dynamic.
We are at best a prop for their charade.
At worst a witness to carry their twisted legacy into the future.

Lisette said...

I don't think they think about us, period.

Anonymous said...

Wow, great comments! I am the sister quoted here. So happy my brother is blogging and has a network of friends who are sharing their clarity and perspective. Thanks for the kind words!

The Sis

q1605 said...

Hello sis that is quoted here.
If you want to check out other blogs you can click on the page for Lisette's "House of Mirrors" and upsi has "You don't have to dance for them." There are links on the right for theirs and some others.
Don't be a stranger.
Don't let the Barbarian win.

Lisa said...

Yeah, my parents are still together. I just realized it's scientifically impossible for them to separate. It's really weird. They suck too much on their own they can't exist without the other.

My parents didn't fight THAT much but enough that I always felt tense about it. It came and went. They never LIKED each other, that's for sure. They LIKE putting each other down, that makes them feel good about their respective stupid selves. It was always my mom saying something bitchy and critical or being a snob and my dad saying why can't you be less of a bitch, that's a really bitch thing to say, and then her saying why can't you be more understanding, I'm such a prisoner, you suck. My dad LIKED being all offended and haughty. There wasn't any genuine hurt in his voice. To him...it was like everything was all going to plan.

I guess you could call that masochism. Just fucking retarded!

No offense to sane masochists.

It was just this routine that went on over and over and over. My parents relationship is extremely cold at best. They sleep in separate bedrooms in separate sides of the house. I don't know where they live now but they did. Most of the time, they don't even talk since if they do talk, they'll probably fight. They NEVER physically touch unless my dad gets her in one of his "hugs" (headlocks). And my mom either squeals like a branded pig, hisses like a cat scratched the wrong way, or just stands as still as a statue. Now that I think of it, my mom has NEVER reached to my dad and given him a hug or touch him. NEVER. I have NEVER seen it. She just stands there hissing and moaning and complaining, I mean, she's not even looking at him. It's such a WEIRD dynamic.

That's so weird but it was the status quo so I didn't even notice it.

Then my dad criticizes ME that I'm cold, that I'm a selfish attention hogging spoiled brat, and that I'm pretty much the problem in all of their lives.

Full of shit.

They're all so crazy!

Lisa said...

Thanks! I knew a bitch Lisa once. Did not like her one bit. Not so bad, it's like having an evil twin. Made me feel better about myself.

Haha, the people in my life right now are the first normal people I've been around. And whoa, are they not crazy! Crazy!

Hello, the sis!

Lisette said...

Hello "The Sis",

I'm so happy to have met you and your brother. And, I'm glad we've all found each other.

Do we still have Al Gore to thank for this?

Anonymous said...

(I missed these comments yesterday.)

OH! That "quiet!" YES! YES! But it wasn't really-as Lisa expressed it made me a nervous wreck as well because you just knew it was all gonna blow up but waiting for the explosion as a kid.....overwhelming dread/confusion/fear/powerlessness. My mnmother was the absolute QUEEN of the "Silent Treatment" towards everyone. If there was one sentence that sums up my childhood experience verbally it would be, "Mom, are you mad at me?"
"NO!" as she slammed drawers, cabinets, pounded those spike heels all over the house, slammed more doors etc....or turned on me for god knows what real or imagined "transgression." Her preferred MO was to let it simmer just at a low boil for some infinite amount of time before all hell broke loose.
Yeah, I'm really believing that....I'm a kid and I have no clue what's up but I know it's gonna explode as soon as what ever (internal) det cord is lit. Best to get out of the house and stay out. (Cars provided a special place in hell when she was in one of these seething, just-gettin'-ready to explode "moods.")
It reminds me of "Flashover" in fires where everything explodes in flames after the fire has been confined to a discrete area for some time. When it's all over nothing is left unscathed or free from incineration.
Mary Chapin Carpenter has a song that speaks to these kinds of "parental interactions" that says in part, "And in the morning a silence you could cut with a knife" (after the "storm" by the parents the night before heard by the kids.)

Greetings from The Tundra, sis.

q1605 said...

In my house on the next day every was walking on eggshells BUT them. They would be dry humping each other on the kitchen counter and every one else was trying to keep from throwing up.

Anonymous said...

Makes my 1950's little one attempts at making toast in the toaster for breakfast when it got stuck and I put a knife in there to get the toast out without unplugging the cord (who knew?) a whole lot less "electrifying."

Someone should have taken a bucket of cold water and thrown it on those two. Before the days of spay and neuter this worked....on domestic animals to cool their ardor prior to the act. Realistically those two didn't "fit" domestic and blew by animal definition.

Too bad tasers weren't available......

q1605 said...

Or tranquilizer darts.